


A Bildungsroman of Idiocy

by Plasma_gore (FanFictionIsMyWeakness)



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Alcohol, All the fun things teenagers go through, Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexuality, Coming of Age, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Growing Up, Heartbreak, Heavily Inspired by my own life and my own high school expiriences, Hormones, It's definitely a reddie fic, M/M, Making Out, Marijuana, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mentions of hospitals, Multi, Platonic Soulmates, Platonic relationships are just as important as romantic ones!, Recreational Drug Use, Sex, Teenage Drama, These are mostly touched on in passing, a lot of characterizations are based off my friends, but they take a while to get together, high school is rough you guys, mentions of self harm, or at least the things I went through as a teenager, teenage drinking, they're dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-14 22:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18485680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFictionIsMyWeakness/pseuds/Plasma_gore
Summary: "It’s not that he didn’t like Eddie at first, per say, more just…. Actually, no. Originally, Richie Tozier felt nothing more than a strong, irrational disdain for Eddie Kaspbrak. Why? Well, that was something he couldn’t quite place his finger on."_Battling high school and the multitude of teenage emotions that comes with it is a shit show, especially when you're trying to add relationships to the mix. Richie isn't sure what he's doing, but he's pretty positive he's doing it wrong. Especially when it comes to Eddie Kaspbrak, the cute kid from theater who wants to steal his best friend and probably destroy his life while he's at it. Not to mention the mess of relationships he's gotten himself into along the way and the anxiety that's constantly ready to ooze out of his pores. Watching everything change right before his eyes is like a bad acid trip. Suddenly his best friend isn't his best friend and the kid he hates doesn't seem so bad. Hell, he's even pretty cute. Growing up is fucking hard.(OR a coming of age story heavily inspired by the events of my own life.)





	1. Part One: The Rising Action

**Author's Note:**

> Although this is a work of fiction, it's an homage to my own high school experiences, mostly focused on my closest friendships and romantic relationships. The story of Eddie and Richie follows very closely to how I met, dated, and fell in love with my own S/O. There are mentions of mental health issues that, although I didn't want to focus too much on, I felt the need to include because they were pivotal to my own development. My fiancee and are are constantly talking about how much we related to Richie and Eddie, seeing elements of ourselves heavily in those two characters and so, for me, it didn't seem outlandish to base my characterizations off of the two of us. This is dedicated mostly to myself and my love, because although I have changed small details and minor elements of the story to fit best with Eddie and Richie, this is, as a whole, our story. 
> 
> She's going to kill me for this one.

It’s not that he didn’t _like_ Eddie at first, per say, more just…. Actually, no. Originally, Richie Tozier felt nothing more than a strong, irrational disdain for Eddie Kaspbrak. Why? Well, _that_ was something he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Maybe it had something to do with his inherently quiet, withdrawn nature that made him seem boring. Maybe it was the spark of intelligence hidden in his eye, the way he always seemed to be watching uncomfortably from a distance. Maybe it was how close he seemed to be growing to Bev.

 

(it was _definitely_ how close he was growing to Bev.)

 

Ever since he could remember, life had always been Richie and Beverly versus The World, with their own little spot for lunch, tucked away in the halls of their middle school, or out on the grass of their high school -even when it was negative three degrees and snowing. They saw each other nearly every day, doing their homework together, catching up on their favorite TV shows, and constantly cracking jokes and picking on each other with all the love they could possibly muster. Richie and Bev, Bev and Richie, a packaged deal -best friends until the end. That was, until, their sophomore year of high school, when Richie tried out for the play and Bev the cheer team. When Richie was rushed to the hospital for the fourth time, after trying to OD because hanging himself didn’t work the last time and his folks didn’t own a gun, and Bev didn’t tell anyone about how much she cried. When the scars and cuts and wounds on Richie’s arms were shallow and visible and a blatant cry for help, where as the ones on Bev’s legs ran deep and stayed hidden. When Bev tried to date Bill Denbrough, and it didn’t really work. When Eddie Kaspbrak, a skinny, wide-eyed little freshman with red shorts and ugly sweaters that hung off his tiny frame, decided to run the light production for the school musical -the musical Richie _should’ve_ been the lead for, but was too busy burning his skin and popping antidepressants to truly be involved in. Not that it mattered. By that low, bitter, miserable point in Richie’s life, he had already decided that he had no place anywhere, especially in the theater.

 

By his junior year, things were better, but still not very good. Richie dyed his hair blue on impulse and the girl he had been dating at the time, a vile sort of person who tried to one up him in every way and really only used him for a sex toy or a therapist, screamed at him until he snapped. She claimed that she would never be attracted to him without his brown curls, cried over her _boyfriend_ , the _love of her life_ , not even _caring_ enough to respect her wishes. Richie threw a fit, punched a hole in her wall and stormed home, body quaking with anger and humiliation and the desire to do something crazy. He broke a plate, and then two, and three, hit his door until his knuckles split open, bleeding, and called Bev with tears welling up in his eyes.

 

“Yo,” he said when she answered, trying to steady his voice as he aggressively wiped the tears from his eyes. “I’m three seconds away from committing murder. Talk me out of it.”

 

“....on Bill? Because that fucker won’t even spare me a _glance_. I waved to him in the hall the other day and he blatantly looked away from me. I was so down to be friends, but I guess he needs to die instead.”

 

And with that, Richie was laughing. Girls and anger and blue hair be damned.

 

Richie and his girlfriend broke up on their six month anniversary, an event that he hadn’t cared about until she made it a big deal. So he bought her flowers and planned a date, dressed in the nicest clothes he owned (dark wash jeans and a black button up. The same dirty converse as always) and did his best to tame his wild, electric blue curls. Twenty minutes before he was supposed to leave to pick her up, she called him, voice dead on the other end.

 

“Hey.” She’d said. “I’m not in love with you anymore. Bye.”

 

Richie cried for ten minutes but, ultimately, felt relieved.

 

 _You’re gonna love this._ He texted Bev, who had been more then clear about her disdain for that girl. _We broke up_.

 

_...Do you want some cake?_

 

Richie spent his six month anniversary at Bev’s, eating chocolate sheet cake and bitching about their exes until one of them interrupted with a fart joke or a particularly weird noise. What should have been a sad day became a two am adventure of sitting on Beverly’s kitchen floor, laughing like maniacs and going into great detail about their poops. They still shit with the door open.

 

It was the middle of their junior year, long after the play had ended and musical auditions were right around the corner, sometime in mid January, that Eddie Kaspbrak became a problem. Richie had known he was on the cheer team with Bev, that they were friends, for reasons he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around, and that she’d bring him up every now and again, but he’d never given this information a second thought. But when he and Mike Hanlon, another one of Beverly’s cheer friends, began sitting with them at lunch, Richie came to realize that he had some competition. In retrospect, it was selfish of him get jealous over Bev having other friends, but for so long, she had been his rock, the one person he could turn to in time of need and never be disappointed, and suddenly her affections were divided. It was different when she was “dating” Bill. Richie _loved_ Bill’s company, felt as though he added to their dynamic. He hated when they broke up and suddenly _BevandRichieandBill_ went back to _BevandRichie_ . Eddie and Mike on the other hand didn’t add anything. The three of them talked about cheer, mostly. A topic Richie couldn’t contribute to in the slightest, and for a week or two (or maybe three) Richie stayed silent and bitter and fuming during what _should have_ been his time with Bev. That was until he finally snapped and picked a fight he shouldn’t have picked.

 

“I love it when I’m being left out.” He interjected, one particularly rough Tuesday, when the blue in his hair had faded to baby puke green and the burn on his arm had scabbed. Eddie gave him a look with a raised eyebrow and a nasty expression.

 

“Then maybe you should stop sulking and include yourself.”

 

Things spiraled. Mean words were hurled and venom was spit. Eddie ended up storming off, Mike trailing behind, shooting Richie one last pitiful glance. He watched them go, feeling shittier and shittier by the second before finally throwing his head back and sighing. Bev sat by his side, quiet, which was worse then if she had screamed at him.  

 

“I’m an asshole.” He finally said, the sound of the lunch bell ringing in the distance.

 

“Yeah, you are.” Bev replied. She stood, throwing her bag over her shoulder and turning to him, offering her hand to help him up. “But that’s okay. You two don’t have to be friends.” Richie took her hand, hauling himself to his feet and starting the trek toward their respective classes.

 

“I feel like I’m being replaced.” Bev scoffed, turning to him with a sort of glint in her eye.

 

“Dude,” she said. “Are you retarded? That would never happen.”

 

Still, they managed to drift apart over the months leading up to prom, something they’d mutually agreed to go to together. By February, Bev was spending more time with her cheer friends then Richie, and Richie was spending more time with Bill, who he had missed quite dearly. He found that Bill’s friends were outlandish and hilarious, filled with fire and crude humor and mean jokes that he couldn’t get enough of. Sometimes, he’d catch Beverly’s glare from across the hall. Making her jealous hadn’t been his intention, but it sure seemed like an added bonus. Bill’s new girlfriend, Audra, was a delight as well -even though Bev never ceased to make fun of her.

 

_Do you see how fat she is?_

 

_Can you imagine fucking that?_

 

_It’d be like sticking your dick in a whale!_

 

She wasn’t even fat, just a little shorter and a fair bit curvier than Bev, but, wanting to avoid her wrath, Richie refrained from saying as such. Instead, he replied:

 

_Yeah, but fucking you would be like sticking your dick in a bitch._

 

Bev seemed to find that rib-splittingly hilarious.

 

It wasn’t until the middle of the month, when musical auditions had ended and Richie and Bev were in their usual spot at lunch, listening to shitty rap music and talking about prom, when Eddie decided to face them again. Well, face _Richie_ again.

 

“Can I sit here?” He asked. Bev looked to Richie, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. She beamed and nodded at him, making Eddie grin back. As was usual, they began chatting about cheer things Richie couldn’t follow, saying this or that over the squad drama and how much they hated their coaches. It wasn’t until Eddie mentioned something about _The Derry Behavioral and Psychiatric Center_ that Richie zoned back in.

 

“... _You’ve_ been to Derry Behavioral?” He asked, staring at Eddie wide-eyed and in shock. Eddie shrugged, looking a bit sheepish.

 

“Uh, no. Not inpatient, at least. Although I probably should’ve.”

 

“ _Dude_ , I've been four times. That place is my personal hell.”

 

And as they spent the next twenty-three minutes talking about their depression, Richie bitching about inpatient programs and psych wards until his face turned blue, he realized something.

 

Eddie Kaspbrak was actually kind of cool.

 

“I have a problem.” Eddie said in April, two weeks before prom and two months into musical rehearsal. “I have a crush.”

 

Richie didn’t stop laughing for a good two and a half minutes.

 

“I’m serious!” Eddie yelled. “Shut the fuck up for a second and listen to me!” Richie took a deep breath in, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye and grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Okay, okay, talk to me?”

 

“You know Greta? From theater?” Of course Richie knew Greta from theater. _Everyone_ knew Greta from theater and, in all honesty, Richie should have liked her. She was outlandish and obnoxious, with a ridiculous sense of humor and a goofy smile. She was nice enough and well liked enough and, actually, kind of funny, but there was something about her that just put him on edge. She was _too_ obnoxious, _too_ outlandish, everything about her just felt forced, as if there was nothing raw or authentic about the way she portrayed herself.

 

“...seriously?”

 

That earned him a smack on that arm.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on, Rich! I don’t ever get crushes on people, especially not…” he paused, hesitated, eyes searching Richie’s face, before finally swallowing and trying again. “Not on girls.”

 

“Oh.” Richie said, although, in hindsight, he really shouldn’t have been surprised. Eddie had _queer_ written all over him. “You’re… bi?” He asked, trying not to sound as if he was offended or uncomfortable. Eddie nodded, face burning red. “Um. Cool. Me too.”

In May, a few weeks after prom and Richie’s hair had gone from pink to silver, After Eddie and Greta began talking and Richie had _finally_ managed to grab the attention of the boy he’d been crushing on since the seventh grade, after he’d passed his driver’s test and Bev went on that one date with Ben Hanscom, he met Stan at a mutual friend’s birthday party. They hit it off instantly, staying up until four in the morning to talk about anime and South Park and comics, shoving each other like they’d been friends for years. He gave Stan a ride home in the morning, excited to utilize his new driving privileges and found that his apartment complex was only two miles from Richie’s house. The spent near every free moment together after that.

 

Finals came and went and suddenly junior year came to a close. The sweltering heat of summer hit Richie like a truck, but he didn’t much mind his new and horrible sleep schedule. He was woken up one day in June by his phone going haywire.

 

“Jesus fuck, what?” he asked upon answering.

 

“Did you just wake up?” Eddie asked. “It’s two o’clock.”

 

“...no.” The sound of Eddie’s sigh on the other end of the line was deafening.

 

“Take me to ice cream.” Richie rubbed his eyes, shifting to lay flat on his back.

 

“Why?”

 

“ _Because_ , asshole, it’s hot and I want something sweet _and_ the ice cream parlor on seventh street is hosting a fundraiser for the local LGBT center.” Richie perked up at that, sitting up quickly and running a hand through his hair.

 

“You’ll pay?” He swore, he could practically _hear_ Eddie’s eye roll from the other end.

 

“Yeah, sure, whatever, just give me a ride.”

 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 

They ended up spending the rest of the day together, walking advertisements for Portland Pride and giggling over their respective significant others. Although, frankly, Richie found it annoying every time Eddie bothered to bring up Greta. He hated hearing about her, hated listening to how little attention she seemed to give Eddie and witnessing how awkward he felt about the relationship. But, since he patiently listened to Richie gush on and on about his boyfriend, he figured he owed Eddie the same respect. When they got back to Richie’s house to add little streaks of purple in his hair, Eddie ended up staying until long after the sun had set, hanging out in Richie’s room laughing and talking. It was their first real moment together as friends and, for a brief second, as Richie looked over at this small, skinny, sweet boy, he considered leaning over and kissing him.

It was a thought he quickly had to shake off.

 

Beverly and Ben Hanscom became a _thing_ that summer, a thing Richie desperately hoped would sizzle out and die, but didn’t. The night they got into The Big Fight, the one Richie thought would be their downfall, he, Eddie, and Bev ended up going to the shitty drive in theater where Beverly worked part time. It was the same night that Greta broke up with Eddie, after blowing him on her mother’s couch. Needless to say, they were both pretty torn up. The three of them stayed watching movies until five in the morning, throwing popcorn at each other and talking, in gory detail, about the state of their pubes. ( _"Full bald eagle!?"_ Richie had shouted, once Eddie shyly admitted that he couldn't stand any sort of body hair on himself. " _Like, balls and all?"_   Eddie had nodded and hummed and Bev had cackled like it was the funniest thing in the world.)

 

Whatever movies were playing didn’t matter -they were managing to completely entertain themselves. As they popped the trunk and lowered the seats of Bev’s shitty jeep, she grinned and pointed out that she had lost her virginity in the exact spot where Richie had placed his hands. He nearly smacked her right then and there.

 

“Hey Rich,” Eddie whispered, halfway through the third movie, at three fifty-six in the morning. “I feel like I’m on drugs, I’m so happy.”

 

“Yeah?” Richie asked, and Eddie nodded with that cute little smile of his, flannel tucked into his cute little denim booty shorts. “Good. I want you to be happy.” Their moment was interrupted by Bev snorting and shifting, glaring at them for waking her up.

 

“Shut up, gaylords.”

 

She fell back asleep almost immediately after.

 

Richie’s boyfriend was the guy of his dreams. Kind and caring, blonde and fit. He loved theater and video games, comic books and anime and all the things Richie adored. Every time Richie had a new interest, his boyfriend was the first person to look into it. He was an amazing kisser, and gave the best hugs. He was gentle, sweet, beautiful in every picture perfect, ken doll sort of way. If only he could ever be bothered to text Richie back.

 

Eddie and Greta got back together before the summer ended, something both Richie and Bev were equally miffed about. They spent hours complaining, going on and on about how shitty it was of her to break up with their friend in the first place. Bev claimed, on multiple occasions, that Greta needed to die. _Immediately_. It only got worse as they got back to school in late August and noticed her blatantly ignore Eddie around other people, pretend as if he didn’t exist at all.

 

“She’s a fucking bitch, Richie!” Bev yelled one Friday night, after they’d gone roller skating and ended up having an impromptu sleepover. “It’s like Eddie doesn’t matter at all until she wants something from him.” Richie paused, picking at the pizza they’d ordered for dinner. He’s reminded of the conversation he’d had with Mike Hanlon in the library on the first day of school.

 

_Eddie’s my best friend. I can’t watch him get hurt again._

 

Richie couldn’t have agreed more.

 

On Halloween, Eddie lost his virginity. Richie only knows this because a week after, he and Greta broke up, for good this time. He was forced to watch Eddie crawl into school like a zombie, looking as if he hadn’t slept wink or had just finished crying. Or both. Being the sort of person he is (i.e. overly protective)  Richie was immediately out for blood as he listened to Eddie’s heart wrenching break up story. Of course he was angry, ready to murder, even, (he and Beverly both) but that didn’t mean he wasn’t relieved to see that that chapter of Eddie’s life was officially over. He ended up texting Mike.

 

 _Fuck that blonde bitch_.

 

Mike replied almost instantly.

 

_Agreed. She looks like Frankenstein._

 

Richie giggled, suddenly reminded of Greta’s massive, square-shaped forehead. He’d always liked Mike, but this gave him reason to _love_ him.

 

Senior year went by in a blur, a weird, sad blur of Richie laying in bed, desperately hoping his boyfriend would text him back and considering picking up old habits of throwing up his food and shoving a razor to his skin, of punching walls and throwing fits and actively avoiding doing his homework. He tried to talk to Stan as often as he could, with every intention of opening up up about his feelings, but would instead get cross-faded in his bedroom and blow through packs of cigarettes like they were oxygen. Stan’s girlfriend lived over in Massachusetts, a long, long way from Derry, and when he was drunk enough, he’d cry about missing her, or gush about how sweet she was to text him everyday.

 

“Like, _everyday_ , everyday?” Richie asked and Stan nodded, looking at him like _he_ was the crazy one.

 

“Yeah, everyday. That’s what people in healthy relationships do.”  It was then Richie realized that he had two options: Admit to Stan, as well as himself, that not hearing from his boyfriend for days, maybe even weeks at a time wasn’t the most normal or healthy way to go about a relationship, or lie.

 

“No, I get that. We just don’t talk _everyday_ because we get busy, you know?” Stan, for his part, seemed to accept it, and chose to down another shot straight from the bottle of shitty McCormick vodka. They took an edible and quickly forgot about it.

 

For two months, Eddie dated a girl named Myra, who Richie though was sweet and nice, if not a little naive and not all too attractive. He broke up with her without much reason. They didn’t ever really talked about it, no matter how much Richie wanted to ask.

 

Richie and his boyfriend ended things in late March, right before prom. He wound up Stan’s house that same day to cry about it, feeling as if his heart had shattered in a million pieces. The appetite he had slowly managed to regain over the years had dissipated and suddenly all he wanted to do was be fifteen again, slicing his skin and withering away to nothing. That would’ve been less painful then this. Stan looked like he was about to hit him, to shake his shoulders and yell in his face about how stupid and pitiful he was being, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat down, put his arm around Richie, and let him cry his heart out.

 

 _Love_ , Richie thought, mind wandering to Stan and Patty and Beverly and Ben and all the other stupid people he knew who were still happy. _What a terrible thing_.

 

_My heart aches for him, and he’s already gotten over me._

 

It takes _weeks_ before Richie is finally able to swallow his pride and accept the fact that it’s over. Well, at least for now. There’s still a part of him that believes they’ll find each other again, like he’d _promised_ , like Richie desperately hoped and prayed could be the case. His heart still yearned, his body still ached, but at least he could accept that they weren’t a _thing_ anymore. He went to prom with Stan and Bill and Audra, who all got along wonderfully. Stan and Bill had connected instantly upon their first meeting, immediately bonding over dog memes and being generally obnoxious. Audra had been excited at the prospect of making new friends at all. She had surprised Stan with her random bursts of stupid jokes and lack of attention span, yelling along to rap music and talking excitedly about makeup and celebrity gossip. Richie found her fascinating. Stan loved her instantly.

 

They met up with Eddie and Mike once they got there, all sitting around a large, circular table decorated with streamers and ribbons and other party decor, taking turns to get up and dance. Audra demanded a slow dance with Bill, who complied, but quickly showed that he had no rhythm whatsoever, something Audra ended up teasing him for relentlessly. There was a point in which Eddie and Richie managed to pull Bev away from Ben and the three of them danced for song after song, shouting and jumping and snagging nasty pictures of each other. Bev ground against Richie jokingly before pressing a sloppy kiss to his cheek and running off to join her boyfriend for the last few songs. That left Richie with Eddie, in a hot room filled with sweating bodies and adrenaline bursting out of his skin. They pressed themselves together, moving their bodies more in tune with each other then the music. He looked over at Eddie, _really_ looked at him, the soft curves of his cheeks and his cute button nose, his sweet face and brown doe eyes. Richie's gaze traced the dots of freckles along the bridge of his nose, lost in the beauty of his complexion.

 

“Hey,” he said after a moment, halting his movements to pull Eddie closer and whisper in his ear. “I’m not into you are anything, but I’d totally fuck you if you wanted me to.” Eddie paused, his body pliant under Richie’s touch, his head nodding against his shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I’m totally down. If you’re serious.” Richie looked at him, a funny smile on his face. There was an awkward tension in there air as they locked eyes, as if they both were waiting for the other to yell _psych_ , but neither of them did.

 

“I’m not… _not_ serious.” Richie responded, dropping his voice as low as possible without being completely drowned out by the pulsing music. He swore, he could see Eddie’s breath hitch.

 

The after prom party was a tale of legends. Except, it wasn’t. Not in the grand scheme of degenerate teen parties. But for Richie, who had only ever gotten drunk in Stan’s bedroom on Friday nights, and for Bev, who had only ever had one too many glasses of wine with her aunt, and for Eddie, who had been drunk once after his cousin gave him too beers and a Smirnoff ice, it was just a little too wild. Five of them in a hotel room -Richie, Eddie, Bev, Stan, and Mike- passing bottles of green apple Smirnoff around and peeling their clothes off like it was nothing. Richie couldn’t help but let his eyes linger a little too long on Eddie’s legs, clad in spandex and cheeks flushed red. He couldn’t help, in his drunken stupor, but think about kissing that boy senseless.

 

It wasn’t until they were sitting in a circle, discussing kinks and sex and all the other wonderful things drunk teenagers talk about, that Stan (of all people, honestly) said

 

“Why don’t you just go fuck in the bathroom, already?”

 

They locked eyes, staring each other down like animals, Eddie’s cheeks flushed red and Richie with a funny grin spread across his face. Bev groaned.

 

“Just make out or _something_!”

 

And they did, locking lips instantly as Richie lunged forward and knocked Eddie on his back, sprawled across the bed and grinning against his mouth. He wrapped his legs around Richie’s waist, opened his mouth, and tangled his fingers into thick, wild curls. Eddie tugged, kissed harder, withered against his body to pull him closer, nails scraping Richie’s scalp. After a moment they pulled away, both breathing heavily and staring at each other like they could see galaxies in their pupils. Eddie’s lower lip trembled and he looked like he wanted nothing more then to be kissed again.

 

“Is this okay?” Richie asked the rest of the room, but he wasn’t quite sure why. He really should’ve been asking Eddie.

 

“You’ve been eye fucking each other all night, just go.” Stan said, looking rather bored. At some point, his shirt had come off.

 

“Is this okay?” Richie asked again, this time to Eddie, once they were in the privacy of their hotel bathroom, stripped down to their underwear and grinding sloppily against each other.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Eddie breathed, rolling his hips and gripping at Richie’s shoulders.

 

 _I haven’t done this in a while_ , Richie thought, _I haven’t done this much at all._ It didn’t matter, not with the way his head was spinning and his mind clouded, not with the way Eddie kept moving like _that_ , making him all sorts of crazy. _Fuck it_.

 

He pushed Eddie on to his back, making him squeal with delight, and quickly peeled off those tight spandex shorts. He was flushed from head to toe, body laid out like a present, and Richie couldn’t help but lick his lips like he was about to devour a fresh meal. Without a second thought, he took Eddie in his mouth, sinking all the way down until he hit the back of his throat. Eddie screamed in delight, squirming and bucking his hips up, fingers tangling in Richie’s curls to give them a pull. He began bobbing his head, movements sloppy and brain swimming. He wrapped his hand around what couldn’t fit in his mouth, twisting and pumping best he could in time with the bob of his head. Eddie’s back arched, his voice breathy.

 

“ _Richie_ ,” he moaned, drawing out the syllables. “Richie, Richie, Richie!” His thighs tensed and, for a second, Richie thought he might cum, but he didn’t, just rolled his hips up and made cute little noises like he was begging for _more_ , _more, more_. So, of course, Richie complied, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing to constrict his throat, making Eddie whine. He pulled off after a moment, not stopping the movements of his hand, but staring Eddie directly in the eyes.

 

“Can I eat you out?” He asked.

 

“ _Yes!_ ”

 

And he did, tongue circling Eddie’s rim ever so hesitantly, pressing against it with more and more pressure as he continued. He lapped at it, making Eddie squirm and push back against his face, little broken whimpers escaping from his lips. Finally, Richie pushed his tongue past the ring of muscle, just the very tip of it flicking inside and hesitantly exploring Eddie’s walls, opening him up ever so slightly.

 

“Please fuck me, Richie, _please please please_.” He babbled, twitching and spasming with every movement. “Want you to fuck me so bad.” He pulled off, instead pressing his lips to the inside of Eddie’s thigh.

 

“Eddie,” he breathed, brows creased. “I don’t have any lube, I can’t…” Eddie made a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat, squirming and whining like a baby.

 

“Wan’ it, wan’ it so so bad.” He was slurring, eyes half lidded, and moving his hips as if he still felt Richie’s mouth on him. “Promise me, hey, shhh,” he sat up, placing his finger to Richie’s lips, even though he hadn’t said anything at all. “Promise we’ll do this again, okay?” Richie looked at him, eyes filled with sorrow at having to tell this boy, one of his _best friends_ , that no, they couldn’t, because Richie was still in love with _him_. “Promise me, please, please? When we're sober and you can fuck me?”

 

“...okay.” Richie whispered, voice small. “Okay, I promise you.”

 

In the morning, they don’t talk about it. In the morning, hungover and cranky and, quite frankly, still a little drunk, things are awkward.

 

They stay awkward for longer then Richie had wanted.

 

Graduation comes and goes and college is right around the corner. Richie mostly works that summer, employed at a new Starbucks that opened up down the street and spending as much time packed away at Stan’s as possible. His girlfriend, Patty, comes to visit and she’s absolutely _delightful_ , a treasure to the human race. She’s sweet and kind and considerate, giving and wonderful and she quickly takes to Richie as a friend. Stan is ecstatic to see that they’re getting along. They help him dye his hair black and take him to get his septum pierced once he get his first paycheck. His mother makes it clear that she hates both changes, but Richie feels free, happy, and….

 

Not over _him_.

 

Except it’s not the same _him_ anymore. Suddenly, the face the clouds his dreams is not longer blonde and angular and picture perfect. It’s soft and freckled, doe-eyed and slight framed. It’s a drunken night followed by weeks of awkwardness, of anxiety over how to approach the situation until they finally decided to just _joke_ about it. It’s of Richie explaining that he hasn’t fallen out of love, that _he_ was just a friend, an important one, but a friend nonetheless. That they would always be Eddie and Richie, not _EddieandRichie_. But that was wrong. Because, suddenly, all he can think about is kissing soft, full lips all over again.

 

Eddie invites him over late summer to get high, and Richie, ever the stoner and never one to turn down a party, obliges. He brings edibles, gummy ones he got for cheap that have proven themselves to be stronger then he can handle, and is happy to see Mike and Bill, as well. They all take half of one, even though Richie has to work at five am in the next day and he _really_ shouldn’t be staying up tonight, but it’s only four in the afternoon. He’ll have sobered up in time to get home. At some point, they’re sitting on the kitchen floor, munching on Domino's pizza and cracking jokes, when Bill gets a text from Audra. Richie gags dramatically and makes a comment about the _joys_ of being single. When he turns to Eddie and Mike to back him up, Eddie just gives him a confused look.

 

“I’m not single.” He says. Richie blinks. Then blinks again, mind blank and brows furrowed. Surely he heard wrong.

 

“Wait, what?” He asks, glancing around the room. Why is he the only one who seems surprised?

 

“I have a boyfriend.”

 

“ _Who_?” Richie demands, cringing at how angry his voice sounds. Eddie glances down at his lap, twirling his thumbs and he offers a sheepish smile.

 

“I met him online.”

 

Richie takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to get irrationally angry.

 

 _You never made a move_ , he tells himself. _He’s not yours_.

 

Instead, he offers as genuine of a smile he can muster and says

 

“I’m happy for you.” When really, his heart is cracking in two.


	2. Part Two: The Climax (and the Resolution)

Eddie talked about his boyfriend decently often, but not all the time. He lived on the other side of the country and they’d, apparently, met through a comic book fandom blog. Richie found it utterly ridiculous, and made sure to make that as clear to Stan as he possibly could. 

 

“It’s not even a real relationship.” He complained as they wandered the isles of Target, Starbucks in hand and looking for the best bag of chips to munch on while they’re stoned. “How can you be into someone you’ve never even met? They can’t even touch each other! It doesn’t fucking count.” Stan shrugged and a grabbed a bag of chili cheese fritos, examining it with a funny grin. He turned to Richie, holding them up almost tauntingly before dropping them in the basket. 

 

“It’s pretty stupid, yeah.” He agreed, but something told Richie that he didn’t actually care all too much. “Do you want a smoke?” Richie nodded, making sure to quickly run through check out and storm off outside, lighting a Marlboro Red and taking a deep, angry inhale. 

 

“He’s just lonely and settling for whatever he can get and it’s pathetic.” Richie tapped his foot to the ground, glaring at his cigarette as if it had personally offended him. “You know what freaks me out sometimes?” He asked, turning to watch as Stan had opened his bag of fritos and shoveled a handful of them into his mouth. 

 

“What?” He responded, mouth full. 

 

“If things had been different on prom night, Eddie and I might be dating right now.” Stan raised his brows, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. 

 

“Well,” he said, after he’d swallowed and had a moment to compose himself. “Thank God that wasn’t the case, right?” Richie scowled, taking a final drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stomping it out with of the heel his shoe. 

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Stan shrugged. 

 

“Just that I could never see you two being a  _ thing _ , you know? He’s way more into you then you are to him, anyway.” 

 

_ If only you knew _ . Richie thought, but couldn’t bring himself to admit it, to say, outloud, that he was falling hopelessly for Eddie Kaspbrak. Instead, he responded with, “yeah, I fucking guess so.”  

 

In early September, only a week or so after Richie’s college courses had begun and Patty had returned home for the school year, Eddie got a job a Spirit Halloween only ten blocks down from his house. When the store officially opened, he sent Richie a Snapchat of his and Bev’s faces, both of them pulling stink faces and Eddie in his little purple employee apron.  _ Get ur ass over here _ , it said. And Richie, having nothing in particular to do at all, obliged. It was four pm on a Thursday. Richie had long since gotten out of class and had the day off from work. He found Bev and Eddie goofing around with the prop weapons way in the back of the store. Eddie squealed in delight once his eyes landed on Richie, having not seen him for a little over a month, and he ran toward him, enveloping him in a big, tight hug. Bev pretended to gag in the background, making faces at the two of them and lean over to fake hurl. When Eddie pulled away, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet, hopping back and forth with a large smile splitting his face, one Richie couldn’t help but match. 

 

He turned to Bev, who offered him a wave and an awkward smile. He hadn’t seen her since…. Well, it had been a while. He messed with her hair, poking her in the ribs with his elbow and she stuck her tongue out in return. 

 

“Fuck off,” she grumbled, pushing him away, but the glint in her eye suggested that she was just as happy to see him as he was to see her. They ended up dicking around for a good half hour, doing a sufficient job of distracting Eddie from his work. Bev put on a particularly horrifying clown mask, making weird shrieking noises from inside and sauntering toward the two of them like some sort of creature. Eddie screamed when she snuck up on him, jumping ten feet out of his skin and shaking like a leaf as she laughed at him, removing the mask to show the sparkle in her eye. 

 

“You’re the  _ worst _ ,” Eddie said, with just enough of a smile to show that he didn’t really mean it. Not long after Bev checked her phone and swore under her breath, face scrunched up in discontent. 

 

“I have to get to work.” She whined and Richie offered her a sympathetic look. She turned to pout at the two of them before heading off, complaining the whole way outside about her piece of shit job. Richie left not too long after that, figuring that he ought to let Eddie get back to work, but not before asking him if he wanted to go to the movies that night. 

 

“Like, tonight, tonight?” Eddie asked, seemingly shell shocked and glued to his spot. 

 

“Uh,” Richie stammered, fidgeting slightly. “Yeah. It’s horror movie season and I need someone to go see  _ Hellfest _ with me.” Eddie blinked and then nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

 

“Yeah, I’d, um. I’d love to. I’m off at nine.” 

 

When Richie rolled back up to Spirit Halloween at eight forty-seven pm, he felt his nerves jittering. He and Eddie hadn’t spent alone time together since prom night, hadn’t spoken much since the boyfriend reveal. It felt stupid to be nervous, they were  _ friends _ after all, but he couldn’t help the bounce in his leg. Eddie came out a bit before nine, dressed in the same pink sweater and same tight jeans as he had been, looking cute and rosy as ever. It had gotten cold in the time between dusk and proper nightfall and Richie had opted to throw on his favorite gray beanie and his ugliest green flannel, two sizes too big and the color of vomit. 

“I’m so excited to see this movie.” Eddie said once he’d entered the car, adorable grin scribbled across his face. Richie smiled back. 

 

“Me too.” He said, starting the car and slowly peeling out of the parking lot. They’d chosen the theater farthest from them, seeing as it was always the least crowded and had the cheapest ticket prices, but it also meant Richie nearly got lost twice. 

 

“I’m directionally retarded, Eds,” he said, after Eddie yelled at him for missing the turn. “Leave me the fuck alone.” 

 

Long before they’d managed to arrive to the theater, Eddie had gotten ahold of the AUX, blasting his weird lo-fi playlist and 2000’s pop music. By the time  _ Paper Planes _ came on, the beat bumping through the car loudly and without remorse, Eddie make a satisfied noise that was loud enough to be heard over the music. It nearly made Richie crash. 

 

“I fucking  _ love _ this song!” He exclaimed, bouncing in his seat. “I’m gonna whip my cock out.” 

 

“... _ What _ .” Richie shouted, grinning from ear to ear at the absolute absurdity of the statement. Eddie’s cheeks burned red, his gaze falling to his lap. 

 

“Not, like, actually. It’s just something Mike and I say all the time.  _ Man, this shit slaps so hard I’m gonna whip my cock out _ . Do you never say that?” Richie barked out a laugh, trying desperately to keep his eyes and focus on the road in front of him. 

 

“ _ No _ ,” he wheezed, clutching at the steering wheel to ground himself. “What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” Eddie’s blush only deepened. 

 

By the time they got to the theater, tickets purchased and popcorn in hand, it was empty. The previews hadn’t even started yet, nor had the lights dimmed, which meant Eddie had his phone out, furiously texting back and forth with  _ someone.  _ Richie tried not to snoop, he really did, but he couldn’t help it as his gaze wandered to the phone screen, roaming over the sequence of messages with raised brows. 

 

“Boyfriend?” He asked, hating how small and strained his voice sounded. Eddie paused, looking up at him with a sheepish smile, and hummed in confirmation. 

 

“He’s in a ‘dom mood,’ tonight.” Richie raised his brows, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. 

 

“Oh?” He asked. Eddie looked back down at his phone, thumbs running over the screen. Although he couldn’t quite tell in the dimmed theater lighting, Richie could’ve sworn he was blushing. 

 

“Yeah. He’s been talking about wanting to, like, bend me over a table or… something.” He glanced back up at Richie, offering him an awkward smile. 

 

_ He and I have that in common, _ Richie thought, and then quickly shook it off, choosing to cross his arms over his chest and pretend as if he were scandalized. Eddie seemed to pick up on it. 

 

“This isn’t new!” He said, trying to justify what appeared to be his own obvious discomfort. “We, uh, talk about this stuff sometimes. Like, sex and stuff.” 

 

“Well, yeah,” Richie responded, trying not to say anything too snotty. “You’re boyfriends and all. That’s normal.” 

 

The theater dimmed and the movie started, opening in typical horror movie fashion with boring characters and a weak set up, but quickly devolving into genuinely thrilling scares. Eddie jumped at each sudden move or noise, making grabs for Richie’s hand and squeezing it tightly. They lifted the arm rests to press their bodies together, watching as a needle slowly began to sink into a teenager’s eye, Eddie’s body shaking but unable to pull his eyes away from the screen. Richie placed an arm around him to hold him close, fingers curling around his hip just ever so possessively. For a moment, he forgot about prom night and the boyfriend and the fact that it  _ wasn’t a date _ because all that swam through his mind was the thought of leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. He settled on the crown of his head, instead, tugging him into a tight embrace. Eddie seemed to melt into the touch, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist and resting his head on his chest. He glanced up at him and offered a grin. Richie returned it, as soft as he could manage. 

 

Once it ended and the credits began to roll, the small handful of people filing quickly out the the theater, they turned to each other with twin grins, both of their adrenaline’s spiked and hearts pounding in their chests. They held hands on the walk back out to Richie’s car, Eddie claiming that he was freezing and needed more warmth. Richie had to remind himself, once again, that this  _ wasn’t _ a date, no matter how much he wanted it to be. 

 

They saw each other again two weeks later, spending the night at Richie’s house, even though he had to work at seven the next morning. They ended up staying awake until four. Sometime in the middle of the night, as they snuggled together under the covers ( _ platonically,  _ Eddie reminded,  _ it’s okay for friends to cuddle. Mike and I do it.  _ Something told Richie it was more to convince himself than anything else) and started whispering secrets, Eddie began to shift closer, until he was laying completely on top of Richie and holding him as closely as possible. 

 

“I need to tell you something,” he whispered, the anxiety radiating off of him in waves of heat, thick enough that Richie could taste it. He felt his own heartbeat increase as Eddie murmured, “I think I fucked up.”

 

_ Choosing him,  _ a selfish part of Richie wanted to scream.  _ You’re meant to be with me. _

“What’s going on?” He asked, instead, and Eddie paused, head rested on Richie’s chest and brows furrowed just ever so slightly. There was something thick in his hesitation, something unspoken. Richie desperately tried to get his hopes up, even though he wanted nothing more then to blurt  _ I love you. _

 

_ I’m in love with you.  _

 

But Eddie didn’t confess his love, didn’t say that he thought about Richie in ways he shouldn’t have, didn’t claim that his mistake was in deciding to date the boy on the other side of the country, like Richie thought he might. Instead, he whispered about the things he did when he was fourteen and stupid, how he feared they would catch up with him. He sounded troubled and terrified as he recounted his days of jerking off for strangers on Omegle when he was well below the age of consent, of the time he could’ve sworn someone kept taking compromising screenshots and videos of him without his consent or knowledge. 

 

“I’m just scared I’ll find myself out there, on the dark web, or pornhub, or  _ something. _ ” he said, shaking on top of Richie, who wrapped his arms around him instinctively. 

 

“You’re face wasn’t in the videos?” He asked and Eddie shook his head. 

 

“I made sure to be careful about that.” He whispered, voice meek and small. 

 

“Then no one will ever have to know it’s you. Besides,  _ you _ were the child in that situation.  _ You’re _ the victim. You can’t get in trouble for being taken advantage of.” Eventually, Eddie began to calm down, rolling off of Richie’s chest and turning his back away from him. 

 

“Hold me?” He asked, peering over his shoulder to fix Richie with his big, doe eyes. Who the hell was he to say no? 

 

They woke up two and a half hours later, both groggy and grumpy and shivering from the cold. Richie took Eddie home begrudgingly, glaring at the mostly dark road ahead of him and trying to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes. “Fuck work.” He murmured, half zoning out, half falling asleep. Eddie nodded in agreement. 

 

“Some creep tried to get my number yesterday.” He said, and Richie groaned and rolled his eyes. “It was mostly pretty funny. I told him that even if I  _ didn’t _ have a boyfriend, I wouldn’t be interested.” 

 

Richie had to remind himself that he was not the boyfriend Eddie was talking about. 

 

It wasn’t even a full week later that they found themselves at Eddie’s, after having seen  _ Venom _ in theaters and holding hands the entire time. Richie found that having Eddie under his arm felt natural, that it was much more comfortable to have his hands on him then not. 

 

“Why’d you and Myra break up?” He asked, once they’d gotten on the topic of exes and expressed, properly, just how shitty Richie’s apparently were (they were pretty shit, he just didn’t love admitting that.) 

 

“Oh, um,” Eddie hesitated, glancing down at his lap and twiddling his thumbs. “Well, she was a really bad kisser, and awkward about it, too. She’d always try to kiss me at the worst times and went in tongue first.” 

 

“Ew, what the fuck?” Richie said, face twisted in disgust. 

 

“ _ Yeah _ , and she really didn’t understand my sense of humor. If tried to make jokes about my anxiety or whatever, she’d tell me  _ not to do that _ and got really weird about it.” Richie nodded. He hated when people told him not to tell dark jokes or talk lightly about his  _ own _ mental illnesses. 

 

“Plus,” Eddie said. “I’m pretty sure I’m gay.” 

 

Without missing a beat, Richie responded, “well, duh, I could’ve told you that.” Earning him a prompt smack on the arm. The smack devolved into a full on wrestling match, rough housing on Eddie’s bed and giggling amongst themselves like children. At one point, Richie began attacking Eddie with tickles, making him shriek and squirm, telling him to  _ stop, Rich, I’m serious _ , with a large grin splitting his face. Finally, Richie showed mercy, pausing the movements of his fingers, but refraining from lifting his hands from their place on Eddie’s sides. Instead, his thumb stroked the skin of his hip where his t-shirt had lifted, rubbing slow circles and making Eddie’s soft giggles slowly die off. They stared at each other, eyes locked and both refusing to look away. It was Eddie who broke the silence. 

 

“Hey, Rich,” he said, expression suddenly serious. Richie hummed in response, feeling his heart hammering wildly in his chest. “...Do you want to kiss me?” 

 

Slowly, Richie ran his tongue over his lips, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and chewing at it in concentration. He couldn’t take his eyes off Eddie’s face as he nodded, bringing his hand up to stroke the side of his cheek. Thin, dainty arms wrapped around his neck, tugging him closer, getting him to lay across his body and their noses to brush together. 

 

“Yeah,” he breathed, before leaning in and finally,  _ finally _ , sealing their lips together. The kiss was slow, rhythmic, moving with the fear of the unknown. They had only ever kissed once before, months ago when they were drunk and Richie was still in high school and everything seemed to be moving too fast. But, right then and there, in the safety of Eddie’s bedroom, shielded from the outside world, it felt as if time had stopped just for them. Richie opened his mouth just ever so slightly, and Eddie followed suit, kiss deepening and lips sliding together with purpose. Their tongues poked out, meeting each other with hesitation, but quickly finding familiarity within the other’s mouth, exploring. The grip on Eddie’s waist tightened, thumbs brushing over his skin and creating chills. It was dangerous here, an unexplored world that Richie wanted nothing more then to discover. The maps of Eddie’s body, short and thin and lean, were all too tempting to resist. When Eddie’s hand cupped Richie’s cheek, holding him close and feeling his soft skin, a tremor ran through Richie’s body, coming out in the ghost of a breath, warm against Eddie’s lips. Soon after, he pulled away, searching Eddie’s face in the dim light for any sign of hesitation. His eyes were half lidded, lips parted and panting out warm breath. 

 

“Do you want to stop? He whispered, chest constricting at his own words. That was the last thing he would want, would ever want, but he had to remember that this boy wasn’t  _ his.  _ When he shook his head no, relief flooded through Richie’s body, making his muscles relax and arms wrap loosely around Eddie’s waist. “...do you want more?” 

 

His eager, quick nod was more telling than any amount of words could have been and it was all Richie needed to dive back in for another kiss, this one more certain, more passionate. Eddie arched up into him, rolling his hips against his thigh as if to tell him  _ I’m hard and I’m aching and I want you to touch me. _ And touch him, he did, cupping his hand over the bulge in Eddie’s pajama pants, palming him lazily and without hesitation. In his past sexual encounters, hesitation had been Richie’s downfall, the reason for his inability to get his partners off. And he desperately, achingly  _ needed _ to get Eddie off. 

 

“Want my mouth on you,” he murmured against Eddie’s lips, making his breath hitch as he let out a soft, high pitched noise. “Wanna suck you off.” Eddie swallowed and nodded, running his fingers through Richie’s curls. 

 

“Get to it, then.” 

 

Placing a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses along Eddie’s body, stopping to nip at his hips and suck hickies into the soft skin of his stomach. He glanced up at Eddie’s face, locking eyes as if to ask for permission, before slowly peeling off his pajama bottoms. He couldn’t help but dart his tongue out and lick his lips at the sight of Eddie’s cock, flushed pink and perfect, a bead of precum glistening along the head. Richie wrapped his hand around it, pumping slowly and making Eddie wither underneath him. He sucked the head into his mouth, collecting the bead of pre cum on his tongue and swirling it around, speeding up the movements and twists of his wrist. Eddie’s back arched and Richie slowly swallowed him to the hilt, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing once, then twice, constricting his throat best he could. 

 

Eddie whined softly, fingers tangling into Richie’s hair as he rolled his hips up. His eyes were squeezed shut, mouth having fallen open in a silent plea, and when Richie’s eyes flicked up to watch his face, he couldn’t help but feel smug. He bobbed his head with just a bit more finesse, twisting his wrist in  _ just  _ the right way to get Eddie’s hips rolling and bucking, body twitching beneath him. When Eddie whined, legs tensing up and back arched, he pulled off, picking up the speed of his hand and using his free one to gently cup and massage Eddie’s balls. 

 

“You gonna cum?” He asked, voice lowered in the softest of whispers. Eddie nodded frantically digging his nails into Richie’s scalp. “Do it.” He said. “Cum on my face.” It didn’t take much longer, just a few artful twists of his wrist, before Eddie’s body went tense, legs shaking, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle any sounds. He convulsed as ropes of cum shot over Richie’s cheeks and chin, hips moving frantically and abdominal muscles tightened into a knot. When it was over and they both sat in the dark, staring at each other and breathing heavily, Eddie grinned. 

 

“There’s a towel in the laundry basket; it’s mostly clean.” Richie moved for it, quickly wiping off his face and throwing the offending article back onto the floor. Eddie made grabby hands toward him, asking silently for kisses, which Richie gladly obliged. When their lips met again, this time softer and sweeter, Eddie sighed with content. 

 

“Richie,” he whispered, stroking Richie’s cheek. “I’m so sleepy.” 

 

“Then go to sleep.” 

 

“Promise you’ll be here in the morning?” He asked, eyes already drooping closed and breath beginning to even out. Richie hummed. 

 

“I promise.” 

 

_ I wouldn’t leave you for the world.  _   
  


When Richie wakes up the next morning at nine am, not long before Eddie, it’s to a string of texts from Stan. 

 

_ Found this nightmare in my Snapchat memories _

 

_ Fuck you guys _

 

_ Who even took this??? _

 

_ I don’t remember this at all  _

 

Attached is a picture of Eddie and Richie on their hotel bed, prom night, both stripped down to their underwear and furiously making out. Mike’s arm is in the corner of the screen and Bev’s alcohol reddened face in the background. She appears to be cheering them on. 

 

_ God was watching and he wasn’t happy. _ Richie typed back. 

 

Not long after Eddie woke up, they went to breakfast, nestled in a corner booth at iHOP and awkwardly picking at their pancakes. 

 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked. 

 

“I’m fine.” 

 

“No you’re not.” 

 

Richie glanced up at him, setting his fork down and trying not to say,  _ I’m in love with you  _

 

_ I can’t fucking have you.  _

 

“You have a boyfriend.” He said, instead, and Eddie tensed, looking as if he didn’t want to be reminded. 

 

“We have an open relationship.” 

 

_ Open.  _ Richie’s mind repeated, feeling as if a spark of electricity had just zapped him in the heart.  _ They can fuck whoever they want.  _

 

And thus started the spiral. 

 

That Monday morning, as Richie was sitting in his ten am music appreciation lecture, his mind wandering toward a dark room and heavy breaths, he texted Eddie on impulse. 

 

_ I’m bored. This class is killing me _ . He typed.  _ And I can’t get you out of my head _ . 

 

Eddie’s response was immediate. 

 

_ Don’t say that! You’re just making me want you even more.  _ Richie grinned, feeling suddenly powerful. 

 

_ You wanted me in the first place? _

 

_ Duh! _ Eddie sent back.  _ You’re driving me crazy. I’m seriously trippin so hard over some dick.  _

 

_ Me too _ . And, in a random strike of courage, added,  _ You have the cutest face when you cum. _

 

_ Hhhhhhh _ . Eddie replied.  _ Don’t say stuff like that _ .  _ It makes me want to do something I shouldn’t _ . 

 

_ Do it. _

 

His phone pinged a few moments later with a new notification, an attachment. When he opened it up, he was face to face with a picture of Eddie, shirtless and in a tight pair of boxer briefs, the tip of his cock poking out of the waist band. He was laying on his back, doe eyes looking directly into the camera, and surround by fairy lights and candles. Richie’s face burned red and he quickly closed out of the picture. 

 

_ Naughty! _ He messaged Eddie, who sent back three winky face emojis and one heart emoji. Richie grinned at his screen.  _ Don’t make me fuck it out of you. _

 

_ Please do. _

 

And that was how he ended up skipping his psychology lecture for the sake of sucking cock in the backseat of his car, parked behind the high school as Eddie withered and moaned underneath him. 

 

Two weeks before Halloween, Richie had a bad day at work. A customer in the drive through decided that their coffee wasn’t good enough for their  _ oh so _ expensive tastes, and hurled it directly at him. Richie had barely managed to avoid the worst of the splatter, but got nailed in the arm with hot, foamy milk. It hurt like a bitch and he had to step in the backroom for a good five minutes just to avoid starting an all out brawl with a middle aged white woman. When he returned, he found the store empty -employees and all- and he wondered, with an ever seething rage, where the  _ fuck _ his coworker ran off to. She returned forty-five minutes later, reeking of cigarette smoke and cheeks flushed red. 

 

“Have you been  _ drinking _ ?” Richie demanded, trying desperately not to start breaking espresso machines and throwing his fist through the wall. She hiccuped and nodded, grinning like an idiot. When he got off at eight, the first thing he did was text Eddie. 

 

_ What are you doing tonight _ . The response was near immediate. 

 

_ Currently? Homework :/ _ Richie grinned, anger and adrenaline rushing through him like his blood supply. 

 

_ I had a bad fucking day and I want to go to town on your ass. Pick you up in twenty? _

 

He heard his phone ding three times before he bothered to check it. 

 

_ Um, yes!!! _

 

_ Jesus, Tozier, I’ve been waiting for you to fuck me. _

 

_ I’ll be getting myself ready for you ;) _

 

Richie took a sharp intake of breath, eyes roaming over the screen, before throwing it in the passenger seat and speed demoning out of the parking lot. His nerves jittered the entire drive to Eddie’s, set on fire by his own internal rage and the heavy hammering in his chest. If his foot weren’t laid so heavily on the gas pedal, it would be bouncing in anticipation. When he pulled up to Eddie’s house, he was already outside, wearing a cute little alien shirt tucked into high waisted jeans. He climbed into the passenger seat, leaning in to press a kiss to Richie’s cheek. 

 

“Hey, grumpy.” He said, a mischievous light glinting in his eye and smile tugging at his lips. Richie’s hand instinctively clamped around Eddie’s thigh as he pulled out of his cul-de-sac, heading toward the park a mile away, the one he knew would be abandoned this time of night. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ work.” Richie said on the drive over, making Eddie raise his brow and cover Richie’s hand with his own. 

 

“Wanna hear a secret?” He said, dropping his voice low and making Richie’s breath hitch. “I got myself all opened up for you.” 

 

“Jesus,” Richie muttered, adding just a little bit of pressure to the gas pedal, accelerating a little too much over the speed limit. “Don’t do this to me.” 

 

They pulled into the parking lot not long after, dark and on the side of a desolate road, the perfect place for privacy. Immediately after the car had stopped and seat belts were unbuckled, Richie pulled Eddie into a bruising kiss, hands on either side of his face and teeth digging into his lower lip. Eddie gasped, opening his mouth in search for more, deeper,  _ anything _ , but before either of them could get too carried away, Richie pulled back, wiping the dribble of spit from his chin and fixing him with a hard stare. 

 

“Backseat. Now.” He commanded, voice low, making Eddie’s eyes go a little wide. He scurried to the backseat, clambering awkwardly and making Richie grin with amusement. Eddie giggled when he turned back to look at him, eyes crinkling and smile wide.

 

“This isn’t even a little bit sexy, is it?” He asked and Richie shook his head as he moved to follow him. 

 

“Not even a little.” 

 

When he met him in the backseat, squished together and sharing twin grins, they shared another passionate kiss, moving together with purpose. Richie pulled Eddie into his lap, hands gripping his hips hard and lips attached to the side of his neck. Eddie squirmed and gasped, pressing himself as close to Richie as possible, legs twitching with anticipation. Their hips rolled together, grinding against each other as their breaths mixed and foreheads pressed together. They struggled for a few minutes to get their pants off, fumbling and laughing at the sheer awkwardness of the situation. Eddie shot Richie a sweet grin once he’d managed to peel his clothes off, socks and all, and settle back into his lap. Richie had only managed to get his jeans halfway down his thighs, but it was just enough to expose is hard, leaking cock. 

 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathed, slathering a generous coating of lube along the shaft. His eyes flickered up, meeting Richie’s with desire and intensity. He scooted forward, gripping the base of Richie’s cock to line himself up before slowly sinking down. 

 

“ _ Holy shit _ ,” Richie said, breath hot against the shell of his ear. He held his hips still, letting Eddie time to adjust as he took each inch at an excruciating pace. When he finally bottomed out, they both moaned, low and loud, breath mixing into each other’s mouths. They began to move together, slowly, Eddie rolling his hips and Richie shallowly thrusting up. He dropped his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder, letting out a shuddering sigh. “I’m not gonna last long.” He murmured, making Eddie scoff, rising just a little before slowly sinking himself back down. 

 

“That’s okay,” he said, voice soft and sweet. “You can just blow me and we’ll call it even.” 

 

Something about that tone of voice made  _ something _ spark in Richie, something raw and animalistic as he made a grab for Eddie’s throat, squeezing it slightly and causing him to gasp. “Think you’re in the place to be making demands?” He asked, low and gruff as his free hand wrapped around Eddie’s cock, pumping quickly as he began to pick up the speed of his hips. Eddie gasped and shuddered, whining low in his throat as he pressed himself as close to Richie as possible. He rocked his hips just ever so slightly, burying his face in Richie’s neck. His body began to twitch, thighs tense and and shaking, and sunk his teeth into the meat of Richie’s shoulder after a particularly harsh thrust. 

 

“Please,” he whimpered, making Richie grin and repeat the motion, hand traveling from Eddie’s throat to squeeze his thigh. “ _ Fuck, fuck, fuck! _ ” His back arched, head thrown back to expose the long line of his throat and his hips twitched up, fucking into Richie’s hand only to grind back down against his cock. He let out a strangled, high pitched sound before his body was being pulled taunt, twitching as he came. Richie was quick to follow, after a few more shallow thrusts of his hips, he buried his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, sinking his teeth in the tender area, and spilling inside. 

 

“I broke up with my boyfriend.” Eddie said, after they’d had a moment to breathe and bask in the afterglow. Richie perked up at that, fixing him with wide, wild eyes. 

 

“Oh.” He said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. “Um. Good, I think. You seemed…” 

 

“Unhappy?” Eddie offered. “Yeah. That’s because I was. I guess he just wasn’t what I wanted.” And the look he fixed Richie with after would be permanently burned into his memory. 

 

One Thursday afternoon, after Halloween had come and gone and the brisk November air had settled into their bones, Eddie joined Richie to get his first tattoo -a simple outline of Saturn, placed along his forearm. The actual tattoo, along with the waiting time, took a grand total of thirty minutes and Richie only had to grasp Eddie’s hand once. When it was done, he paid and tipped and they were on their merry fucking way. The sun was just beginning to set and Richie realized, as they walked back to his car, that he was fucking starving. 

 

“Dinner?” He asked, reaching for Eddie’s hand and pressing a kiss to his temple.  _ Boyfriend _ , he thought, but didn’t say so out loud. Eddie nodded and hummed in approval, grinning at Richie with those cute little crinkles around his eyes. They ended up at a little diner not too far from Richie’s house, eating burgers and fries and laughing about the dumbest shit they could think of. Richie talked about Stan, and how he’d recently taken to drunkenly calling Patty at four in the morning to cry about how much he missed her and Eddie mentioned Mike, who’s goat had recently had babies and how Eddie, who exclaimed with far too much excitement thrumming through his body, got to hold one of them. Richie made sure to get the bill. When he dropped Eddie off at home and hour later, stomachs full and content, he kissed him goodbye, watching him go inside with a wistful gaze. 

 

He got home not too long after, beelining toward the bathroom to wash his tattoo and place a generous amount of aquaphor to it. As he was brushing his teeth, he got a call from Eddie, his heart fluttering as he saw the contact name. 

 

“Hey, spaghetti man.” He answered, spitting the excess toothpaste into the sink. 

 

“Hey, Rich,” Eddie said, sounding nervous and far away. “So, um. I was thinking and….I need to know. Tonight at the diner, was that a date?” Richie paused, brows furrowed as he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

 

“Yeah.” He said, grinning a little to himself. “Jeez, Eds, you’re hopeless. That couldn’t have been more  _ obviously _ a date.” 

 

“....so what does that mean, us wise?” Richie shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant, even though his heart was beating a million miles a minute, voice caught in his throat. 

 

“Whatever you want it to mean.” 

 

“Richie,” Eddie said, sounding serious and sad and all the hurt things Richie would  _ never  _ want him to feel. “I think you know what I want it to mean, and I think you know that I couldn’t take it if you didn’t feel the same.” 

 

“ _ Of course _ I do. I wouldn’t be fucking you and taking you to dinner if I didn’t” 

 

“Rich-”

 

“No, I’m serious, Eds. I’m so into you it’s insane. I’m just fucking scared.” Eddie stayed quiet for a moment, the white noise of the other end making Richie’s heart rate increase. 

 

“What are you scared of?” He whispered. Richied sighed. 

 

“Commitment. The last time I fell this hard it…”

 

“...it didn’t end well. Yeah, I know.” Eddie finished, sounding defeated. 

 

“But you’re not him, and I  _ know _ that, and nothing between us would even really change.” 

 

“Exactly! We already hold hands and snuggle and go out on dates-” 

 

“-and I can’t get you out of my head.” 

 

A beat, then two, both listening to the sound of the other’s breathing on the other end. 

 

“So.” Eddie said. 

 

“So.” Richie repeated, waiting for him to make the next move. 

 

“Boyfriends?” Eddie asked, timidly. Richie grinned. A face splitting, toothy, ear to ear grin that had his cheeks hurting and his eyes crinkling. 

 

“Boyfriends.” He agreed. 

 

The first person he told was Bev. It just seemed right. She had been there from the beginning, had been by Richie’s side, angry and bitter and fighting the world with him, for as long as he could remember. She had introduced them. She had made them fall in love. So when he texted her ‘ _ Eddie and I are dating’ _ the next morning, of course she responded instantly with 

 

_ ‘It’s about fucking time.’ _

  
  



End file.
